I'm Not Scared
by LJConnelly
Summary: I've read - and written - lots of stories about Castle taking care of Beckett, but not so many the other way around. I wanted to see how they would act with this role reversed, and this is what came out! Rated T for blood.
1. This Isn't Funny

**Author's Notes: I really, **_**really **_**had no intention of writing (let alone posting) this – it seemed so overdone – but the funny thing about plot bunnies is that they like to have babies. So when this idea popped into my head, what was a poor writer to do but write it? Anyways, I tried my best to keep them completely in character on this one. I may continue it; not sure yet. Anyway, enjoy!**

Beckett hung up the phone and picked up her purse, ready to head to midtown to search the victim's apartment. Castle, usually close on her heels, was sitting in the chair next to her desk, staring blankly into space.

"You okay, Castle?" she asked, looking back to see if he was following her yet.

"Hm? Oh, yeah," he said, standing up slowly.

She might have imagined it, but he seemed to be moving stiffly, and she thought she saw him clutch his stomach for a second. Brushing it off, she headed out, thinking of things she wanted to look for once they got to the vic's house. Halfway to midtown, though, her plan was interrupted when Castle suddenly demanded that Beckett stop the car.

"Are you serious right now?" Beckett asked, incredulous. "For what?"

"Just stop the car," he repeated. "Right here."

Beckett sighed impatiently, but did as he said, hoping an explanation was forthcoming. There was. He had hardly opened the door and climbed out when he started vomiting. The light went on in Beckett's mind, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Castle, you really should quit binge drinking on weekdays," she said. "Most people consider that unhealthy."

"I didn't touch a drop last night," he said before heaving again. "I think I'm dying," he added.

"Oh, man up, Castle," said Beckett condescendingly. She thought back to when he had been bitten by the man with porphyria and become convinced that he was doomed to become a vampire. Surely this was no different. "Shake it off and let's go. Or would you like me to call your mother?"

"Beckett, this isn't funny!" Castle insisted.

Beckett noticed how white his knuckles were as he held her side mirror in a death grip. "From where I'm sitting, it's pretty funny, but it won't be when I shoot you for breaking off my mirror."

"Kate, I'm serious!" Castle snapped.

There was a tone in his voice, wholly unlike his usual mischievous self, which made Beckett reconsider, and she reluctantly got out of the car to see what he was so distressed about. When she circled around to where he was standing, she drew in a sharp intake of breath at what she saw, and her own stomach turned slightly. "Castle, that's a lot of blood," she breathed.

"Uh huh," said Castle, holding even tighter to the mirror.

"What happened?" Beckett asked, trying to remember if Castle had ever mentioned anything, a bleeding ulcer perhaps...

"I'm not sure, but..." he let go of the mirror and pulled up his shirt, revealing a cluster of nasty bruises on his abdomen.

"Oh God," said Beckett, remembering the scuffle from the day before. They had been in the process of arresting a suspect, and Castle had ultimately caught him, but not before taking a few punches. "How long has this been going on?"

"The bruises, or...?"

Beckett nodded towards the bloodstains on the sidewalk.

"Just now," said Castle. "I've had a stomachache all day, but I thought it was just something I ate... I guess not."

The adrenaline had kicked in, and Beckett decided it was time for action. "Come on," she said. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

This had the effect of scaring Castle even more. "What? You're serious?"

"Shut up and get in the car!" said Beckett, already restarting the engine.

Castle was quite uncharacteristically quiet on the way to the hospital, and for most of the ride he was doubled over as if in pain – which, Beckett reasoned, he probably was. She eyed him nervously whenever they stopped at a traffic light, and tried not to think about how much blood there had been. It wasn't that the sight of blood bothered her. She was a _homicide detective_ for crying out loud. It just upset her when so much of it was spilled on the ground by someone she... someone she cared about.

"Beckett?" Castle said quietly, a few blocks from the hospital.

She was about to ask him what, but the color of his face answered her question, and she pulled over, flinching slightly when Castle got sick again. "Are you okay?" she asked. He didn't answer, and Beckett unbuckled her seatbelt and crawled across the console, putting a hand on his back. She frowned, looking at the blood that was smeared across the back of his hand when he wiped his mouth, and the puddle of it dripping down the gutter and into the storm drain. Beckett found him a couple of paper napkins, then restarted the car and stared stone-faced though the windshield. "We're almost there," she said.

Once they arrived at the hospital, Beckett checked them in at the front desk of the emergency room, then excused herself to call Montgomery once Castle had assured her that he would be fine alone for a couple of minutes. She explained the situation to the captain, and he agreed to send Ryan and Esposito to take over for her. That handled, she went back to the waiting room.

"Do you want me to call your mother, or Alexis?" she asked.

Castle shook his head. "They're in Chicago looking at colleges. It'd take them hours to get here even if they got on the first plane out, and I'd rather they didn't worry at all."

Beckett frowned, jumping ahead to the worst-case scenario. One of her nightmares was having to tell Alexis that her father wasn't coming home, and she hoped she would never have to have that conversation. But she understood his reasoning, and hoped everything would be fine, and she could tell Alexis instead that it had really been no big deal.

Over the next couple hours, they went through the whole gamut of this test and that, and finally came to the conclusion that he was bleeding enough to warrant surgery. Before Beckett could gather her wits, he was being wheeled off and she was left quite alone in the hallway. She wasn't sure why she was there instead of in an actual waiting room, but it was just as well; she didn't feel like being surrounded by strangers. At one point she realized it had been several hours since she had used the bathroom, and set off to find one. Safely locked behind a stall door, she covered her face with her hands and breathed deeply, willing tears not to fall. _He'll be fine_, she told herself. The harder part to reconcile was why she cared so much. It crossed her mind for a second that she could call Josh – he was a doctor, after all, and might have some words of reassurance. Yet it seemed terribly perverse to call Josh to talk about Castle, and the convolutedness of it all made her head spin.

Having mostly regained her composure, she returned to the awkward hallway chair and waited. She had absolutely nothing to do. The only thing she had with her was her purse, which at its most exciting contained her police notebook, her cellphone, and her backup pistol. She tried to keep her mind occupied with the details of the case they were working on, but everything seemed to remind her of some other moment with Castle, which brought her back to the very real danger he was in, and how much she would miss having him around the precinct. She would never admit it, but she dreaded the day he decided, for whatever reason, to leave. She had very intentionally avoided thinking about this, and convinced herself foolishly that it simply wouldn't happen. She held her phone in her hand, circling her thumb around the keys mindlessly, almost as if she expected him to call her when he was out of surgery. That was ridiculous. She took another breath to calm herself, wishing she had someone to talk to. She would have wanted to talk to _him_, but that was impossible; he was the reason she needed to talk at all.

_Of course,_ she thought suddenly, sliding her phone open and dialing Lanie. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it before.

"Hi, Beckett, what can I do for you?" Lanie's warm voice answered after several rings.

"Hi Lanie. Can we talk for a minute?"

"I was about to start an autopsy, but if you need me to check something, or—"

"Can it wait?" Beckett cut her off.

"Okay, what's going on? You sound awfully upset, what happened?"

Beckett hesitated. "It's Castle," she said.

"What about him?" Lanie asked. "He working your last nerve again? Girl, I know he can be a handful, but you need to loosen up once in a while!"

To her great frustration, Beckett found herself on the verge of tears again. "No. I'm at the hospital with him. He's in surgery."

"Surgery?" Lanie repeated. "What the hell happened?"

Beckett explained how Castle had suddenly started vomiting blood, and how she suspected it had started when he had taken punches from the suspect they were arresting. Lanie listened patiently.

"So?" Beckett asked. "What do you think?"

"It's hard to say without taking a look at him myself," said Lanie. "You definitely did the right thing taking him to the hospital."

"Yeah," said Beckett. She had known that much. "You think he'll be okay?"

"Modern medicine can pull some amazing stunts," said Lanie. "Don't worry too much, sweetie. But at least if you have a panic attack, you're already in the hospital."

Beckett couldn't help but smile a little. She knew Lanie's comment was only half sarcastic. "Thanks, Lanie," she said.

"Anytime. You know I got your back. You let me know how things go, okay? I'm glad you called."

"Okay. Yeah. I will."

Beckett slid her phone shut, and returned to staring at the pastel floral painting across the hall. She was pretty sure she would be able to accurately describe every detail of the painting to their sketch artist if she were asked. Quite some time later, a male nurse wearing lavender scrubs approached her from the end of the hallway. "Miss Beckett?" he asked.

Beckett looked up, nodding acknowledgement of her name.

"He's coming out of surgery now. The anesthesia will take a while longer to wear off, but he's going to be fine. You can come see him now."

Beckett sighed a long breath of relief, running her hand through her hair and leaning back into the chair. "Thank you," she said. "Which way is it?"

"Follow me," said the nurse.

In the recovery room, Beckett found a much more comfortable chair, or perhaps it just seemed more comfortable since she was no longer burdened with worry. A while later, Castle finally opened his eyes, bright blue and twinkling, in spite of the fog of the anesthesia.

"You stayed," he said, cracking a small smile.

"Yeah," said Beckett curtly, staring down at the floor as she found herself suddenly unable to look at him.

"Why Detective Beckett, I do believe you were worried about me!" said Castle, dramatic as always.

"Oh please," said Beckett. "I knew you'd pull through."

Castle's smile broadened, for he couldn't help but notice that when she said it, she didn't quite meet his eyes.


	2. Will You Stay?

**Author's Notes: First of all, WOW, I did not expect such a positive response to this story. Either I'm not as neurotic as I thought, or there are a lot of neurotic people out there (just kidding, I love you all!) Secondly, I totally lack the medical expertise to include much in the way of detail, and I have a feeling that's going to be important. I'm Googling like a madwoman looking for reliable info, but if I miss anything or screw anything up, PLEASE let me know and fill me in with your knowledge! I would be more than happy to make edits in the name of accuracy. =) Lastly, this chapter turned out a little on the short side, but it seemed like a good place to break chapters, so I'll get started on chapter 3 as soon as I get all my errands done tomorrow. As always, I welcome any and all feedback; good, bad, and ugly. Enjoy!**

"This diet is going to be terrible," Castle groaned, reading the list the doctor had sent him home with.

"Well, you were bleeding internally, Castle, what did you expect?" Beckett asked. Castle may have slept through the night thanks to a drug-drenched lullaby, but she had hardly slept a minute in the chair that had seemed less and less comfortable as the night went on. If she didn't get some coffee – or some sleep – soon, she was about ready to scream.

"No coffee?" Castle went on, ignoring her. "You've gotta be kidding."

"Tell me about it," said Beckett through her teeth.

"Ooh! Wait! It doesn't say anything about no ice cream! Well, I know what _I'm _eating for the next few weeks! Can we stop at a grocery store? I think we're out."

Beckett sighed. "On one condition. No matter how jealous it makes you, you're buying me coffee."

"Deal."

Several gallons of ice cream in hand, they walked up to Castle's loft, and Beckett helped him organize his freezer.

"Wanna help me eat this one?" Castle asked, holding up a carton that wasn't going to fit no matter what configuration they tried.

"Oh, no thanks, I should get back to work," said Beckett, taking a long gulp of coffee.

"Going already?" Castle said, looking sad. "I had kinda hoped you were going to stay and sit on the couch watching soap reruns and other terrible daytime television with me."

Beckett sighed, torn. He looked so pitiful, puppy dog eyes on his face and ice cream scoop in his hand. On the other hand, she hadn't even checked in with Ryan and Esposito or Montgomery about the case since asking for them to take over.

"There's no way this carton is going to fit, and I'd hate for all this perfectly good ice cream to go to waste," said Castle. "And I _know_ you love mint chocolate chip."

He had a point. And Beckett couldn't deny that mint chocolate chip ice cream would go just perfectly with her cup of coffee.

"Okay, okay, one bowl of ice cream," Beckett gave in.

Clearly pleased, Castle scooped them both generous portions, then brought them out and flicked on the TV.

"Ahh,_ One Life to Live,_" he said nostalgically. "Just like old times."

Beckett smiled and took a bite of her ice cream. Just as she had suspected, it went delightfully with her coffee. Somewhat against her better judgment, she finished off every bite of it, reasoning that she'd squeeze in an extra sparring session later in the week. She washed it down with another drink of coffee, and in spite of all the caffeine, she felt sleepy and content. _Just for a minute,_ she thought, closing her eyes with every intention of getting up and heading to work soon. Her body had other plans.

She woke up with a pillow under her cheek and a blanket around her shoulders, feeling slightly disoriented. Beckett yawned and opened her eyes, recognizing her surroundings as Castle's living room.

"What time is it?" she asked sleepily. She got no reply, which she soon realized was because Castle was stretched out sleeping on the couch adjacent to her. She was glad to see that he was breathing evenly and seemed to be comfortable. She also smiled when she saw her shoes sitting neatly on the floor next to the couch. Apparently Castle had managed to put a pillow under her head, wrap her in a blanket, and take off her shoes, all without waking her up. _Impressive,_ she thought. _And sweet._ She looked at her watch, surprised to see that it was two in the afternoon. _I guess I really was tired._

Castle was sound asleep, and Beckett didn't want to wake him by turning on the TV, so instead she picked up the packet of information the doctor had given him. The packet included details on appropriate diet and levels of activity, as well as what to expect over the next couple of weeks, and instructions and how and when to change the bandages. She read the packet top to bottom, assuming Castle wouldn't bother. He didn't exactly have a history of following directions. Once she had familiarized herself with the recovery instructions, she picked up the empty ice cream bowls and spoons and loaded them into the dishwasher, then went into Castle's study to call Montgomery.

"Afternoon, Beckett," he said. "How is everything?"

"Fine, sir," she said. "How is the case?"

"Ryan and Esposito didn't find much at the apartment, but a couple transactions popped in financials. They're running down persons of interest now. They've got it under control."

"I'm coming back," said Beckett. "I just needed to get him to the hospital."

"You get any sleep last night?" Montgomery asked.

"A little," said Beckett. "How'd you know?"

"Because it's two-thirty. If you'd slept, you would have called by seven."

"Sorry, Captain," said Beckett, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Don't apologize," said Montgomery. "I would have done the same if it was my partner. How is he?"

"Sleeping," said Beckett. "The doctors said he's going to be fine. It'll probably just take him a while to recover."

"Alright," said Montgomery. "Keep me posted, but take the rest of the day off. I'd rather you get some rest."

"Yes, sir," said Beckett. "I'll see you in the morning."

She disconnected and tiptoed back to the living room.

"There you are," said Castle. He was awake and sitting up. "I knew you couldn't have left without your shoes."

Beckett smiled, half at his comment and half at his tousled hair. "Yeah, I just had to make a phone call," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Strange," said Castle, looking off into space as he thought about it.

"Strange how?"

"Just strange," said Castle. "I've never had a giant slash in my belly before."

"I can only imagine," said Beckett, wincing as she did just that. A rush of guilt swept over her, and she looked away from him, remembering their first official day working together.

_If you get injured following Detective Beckett to research your next novel, you cannot sue the city. If you get shot, you cannot sue the city. If you get killed — My lifeless remains cannot sue the city? —Your heirs, Mr. Castle._

Even worse, she remembered what she had said in response: _Do I have to wait for him to sign, or can I shoot him now?_ It had seemed harmless and in jest at the time, but seeing him lying on the gurney hadn't been funny at all. She knew he had signed his life away in waivers, and that he knew what to expect on the job, but it didn't make her feel any less guilty at seeing him hurt after following her. She couldn't deny that his help had been – as much as she hated to admit it – instrumental in catching the suspect. And that suspect had turned out to be their murderer. Feeling anger boiling up, she started to think of any charges she could add to her suggestions for the DA. Technically "assaulting a police officer" wasn't accurate, but there had to be a similar charge for assaulting a volunteer...

"Beckett?"

"Mm?"

Castle paused, looking hesitant. "You're probably going to say no, but..."

"What?"

"Mother and Alexis won't be home for a couple more days." He stopped again. "Will you stay?"

Beckett's insides melted. Castle was scared.


	3. Yes, No, No, Yes

**Author's Notes: Thanks again for all your alerts and reviews! I've been pleasantly surprised and overwhelmed. And here is your reward: a somewhat longer chapter this time! Hope you like it! **

Beckett waffled. She hated to leave her friend alone and frightened immediately after surgery, but she had also promised to return to work the next day.

"I don't know, Castle," she said. "I really do need to get back to work."

Castle sighed. "I don't suppose there'd be any point in trying to reason with you."

Beckett sighed. She could tell he was trying to act like it wasn't that big a deal, but she could see right through it. He was inches from begging her. "Alright, I'll tell you what," she said. "Montgomery told me to take the rest of the day off, so I'll stay with you until this evening. But then I have to go. I'm supposed to have dinner with Josh tonight, and I promised Montgomery I'd be in tomorrow morning."

"I'll take what I can get," Castle agreed.

For the rest of the afternoon, they watched a Yankee game on TV, supplemented with more ice cream in lieu of peanuts and cracker jacks. When the game was over – the Yankees won – Beckett looked at her watch and realized she was supposed to meet Josh at the restaurant in a little over an hour.

"I have to go," she said apologetically. "Our reservation is at seven." She stood up and gathered her things quickly, looking back as she opened the door. "Let me know if anything happens, okay?"

Castle nodded. "Have a nice date night," he said, flipping through the channels to find something else to watch.

"I will," said Beckett. "Uhm, I'll see you later."

The whole way home, she couldn't help but feel guilty about leaving him there all alone. She tried to put the thought from her mind as she got dressed for dinner. She found a slinky red dress and matching heels, then took a quick shower and dried and curled her hair in a hurry, slipped into the dress, and spent her last fifteen minutes on makeup. With ten minutes to go until her reservation, she hurried out of the apartment and hailed a cab.

She was only five minutes late to the restaurant, and as it was, she beat Josh there. Breathing a sigh of relief, she took a seat in the waiting area. After twenty minutes, she started to get worried. _Where is he?_

"Ma'am? I can get you a seat at the bar while you wait if you'd like," said a host.

Beckett looked at her watch. Josh was more than half an hour late already. "Sure," she said, starting to feel irritated. She ordered a vodka martini and waited, swirling her finger around the curl of lemon in the glass. Another half hour went by, and still no Josh. Finally, halfway through her second martini, her phone buzzed.

"_I'm so sorry, Kate," _the text read. It was Josh. _"One of my patients went in for emergency surgery about an hour ago and I didn't even have time to call you. Reschedule?"_

Beckett sighed irritably and downed the rest of the martini. "I'll take the check now," she told the bartender. She paid her tab and left the restaurant, already starting the imaginary confrontation in her head. She hopped in a cab, trying to decide what to say to Josh. She didn't feel like arguing with him, but she was beyond annoyed, and more than a little embarrassed. Eventually she settled on ignoring him until she had cooled off a bit.

"Destination?" the cab driver asked.

"Uhm..." Beckett faltered. She was all dressed up, pissed off, and nowhere to go. Before she knew what she was saying, she had given the driver Castle's address.

She felt utterly ridiculous walking up to his apartment, dressed to kill and nothing to show for it, and she could only imagine what smart remarks he would have about the whole ordeal. Nonetheless, she knew he would be glad to see her, and although she wasn't about to tell him, she would feel better knowing he wasn't spending the night alone. Swallowing hard and pocketing her dignity, she rang his doorbell. It took a little longer than usual for him to answer, but she reasoned this was probably because he was moving more slowly than normal.

"Back so soon," said Castle, that irresistible smile crossing his face. "Did you miss me?"

"I uh... long story. How are you?"

"Alright," said Castle. "Sorry it took me so long to get to the door."

"That's okay," said Beckett, following him back to the living room. He sat down slowly and stiffly, and Beckett watched him sadly. She still felt like it was partly her fault that he was hurt.

"Have a seat," he said, motioning to the space next to him on the couch. "I'd fix you a drink, but..."

"I've already had two," Beckett grumbled.

"Is everything okay?" Castle asked.

"Yes," said Beckett, twirling a piece of her hair that had come loose. "No."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Castle asked.

"No." Beckett pinned the stray strand of hair back into place. "Yes."

Castle raised his eyebrows, signaling her continue.

"He didn't show," said Beckett, picking up a candleholder from the coffee table and running her fingers over the design. "He kept me waiting for over an hour. An hour! It was humiliating! I was just sitting there at the bar in this ridiculous outfit, ordering drinks alone, until _finally_ he texted to me to tell me he had to do an emergency surgery at the last minute. I mean, I get it, their lives are in his hands, but did he really not have a _second_ to tell me he had to cancel?"

"I'm sorry, Kate," he said, looking at her sympathetically. "But I'll have you know, your outfit isn't ridiculous. You look beautiful."

"Thanks," she said quietly.

"And you deserve better."

Beckett frowned. He was probably right, but she wasn't about to say so. "Yeah, well, we both have pretty unpredictable jobs."

"Sure," said Castle. "But you're right, the least he could do was call."

Beckett shrugged. "Forget it. What's the television agenda for the rest of the night?"

"Batman: The Dark Knight is on On-Demand," said Castle. "I was thinking it'd be a nice break from the soaps."

"Dark Knight it is," said Beckett, kicking off her shoes and slouching into the couch.

It was after midnight when the movie was over. Beckett yawned, dreading the trip home. She knew it wasn't yet the morning after, but somehow it still felt like the walk of shame, going home in her dress and heels.

"You're sure you won't stay?" Castle asked. "It's awfully late."

Normally, he would have had to twist her arm much harder, but after the frustrating failed date night and the fact that she was admittedly still concerned about Castle's health, she gave in.

"Oh, what the hell?" she said. Then she looked down again at her dress. "This is gonna be awkward to sleep in..." she mused.

"I'll find you something of Alexis's," said Castle. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"Okay," said Beckett, yawning again.

They walked upstairs and into Alexis's room – which Beckett had never seen before – and found some pajamas. The sleeves and pant legs were a little short, but otherwise they fit well enough.

"Will you be warm enough with that blanket, or do you want another one?" Castle asked.

"Just the one will be fine," said Beckett.

What she really wished for was an extra toothbrush, but she would have to make do without. Castle did at least suggest that Alexis wouldn't mind her borrowing other necessities, like facial cleanser and makeup remover. Once they were both ready for bed, Beckett bid him an awkward goodnight at the top of the stairs.

"Will you need anything else?" Castle asked.

"I don't think so," said Beckett, hugging the spare pillow. "Will you?"

Castle shook his head. "Just my personal pharmacy and a big red panic button."

Beckett chuckled. "Good night, Castle." She made her way back down the stairs and curled up on the couch, thinking as she turned out the lights that this was not exactly how she imagined first spending the night at Castle's house.

When Beckett got up at six the next morning, she realized a small problem. She had come straight to Castle's loft in her dress from the failed date, and she had not intended to stay the night, which meant that she had _not _stopped by her apartment to get a change of clothes. Going home in her dress so early in the morning would look even more like the walk of shame than going home the night before, but as far as she could tell, her only other option was to borrow more of Alexis's clothes and go into work looking like she had shrunk everything she owned in the wash. As she was debating this dilemma, she heard Castle coming down the stairs.

"Good morning," she called from the kitchen, where she was helping herself to coffee.

Castle didn't answer, and she wondered for a second if she had imagined the sound on the stairs. She turned around, and gasped at his appearance. His face was ghostly white, and there was blood dripping from the corners of his mouth and oozing through his shirt. He was holding fast to the railing and leaning most of his weight on it.

"Oh my God, Castle, what happened?" Beckett asked, dropping the coffee maker's water reservoir and running to see what was wrong.

"I... I don't know," he said breathlessly, staring at the same place she was staring. "I just woke up, and... and this."

"Sit down!" said Beckett, worried that he would collapse as she saw his knuckles turn even whiter on the railing. She grabbed the information packet off the coffee table and started skimming through it, then gave up and threw it back on to the table. "We're going back to the hospital," she said decisively. "Come on, let's go!"

She ran back to where he was standing, and putting a hand on his back to guide him down the stairs. Castle hesitated, seemingly unwilling to move.

"Come on!" Beckett repeated. Suddenly, a smile broke out on Castle's face. "What the..."

Then, of all things, Castle started laughing. He wiped the blood off of his mouth, then licked the back of his hand. "Mm, peppermint," he said, next peeling off the shirt to reveal a perfectly clean bandage underneath.

"It was _FAKE?_" Beckett roared.

Castle nodded sheepishly, wiping off the remainders the "blood" with his t-shirt.

Beckett smacked him on the shoulder. "You are _unbelievable!_" she said furiously. Her heart was still pounding against the inside of her chest. "I am gonna kill you," she added, sinking into the couch and waiting for the flood of adrenaline to dissipate.

"You wouldn't," said Castle.

"Keep that up, and that's exactly what you're getting," said Beckett.

"It won't happen again," Castle promised. "Coffee?"


	4. Day After Day After Tomorrow

**Author's Notes: I am so sorry for the long wait and the short chapter! I hope you haven't all given up on me by now. The last few weeks have been crazy with moving, out-of-town overnight class field trips, and, oh, busting out my rewatchathon in preparation for the season four premiere. Which was AWESOME by the way. If you haven't seen it yet, don't even think about reading this until you see the episode! (No **_**Rise**_** spoilers, I just think the real show is way more important!) That reminds me, I forgot to mention before, this is supposed to be set late in season three, say between **_**The Dead Pool **_**and **_**To Love and Die in LA.**_** Anyway, here's a little scene, kind of some filler, but still fun to write. By the way, if there's anything you'd like to see in future chapters, let me know. I'm kinda making this up as I go, so I'm open to suggestions!**

"You're not even supposed to be _drinking_ coffee, but I am. I was just making some. And none for you."

"Not even a tiny little cup?" Castle pleaded.

"No! The doctor said no coffee. I'm not risking it."

"You mean you're not letting _me_ risk it."

"Yeah. That," said Beckett. Her heart rate had yet to return to normal, and worse, she still hadn't figured out what to do about work. She was still wearing Alexis's pajamas.

"Hmm," said Castle, looking through his refrigerator. "What to eat for breakfast?"

Beckett didn't answer him, still busy trying to make coffee in spite of her shaking hands. "Wait... how do you..."

"Here," said Castle, helping her with the coffee maker. "There. Now just push the button."

"Thanks," said Beckett, smiling at the little red light that told her she would have a hot cup of coffee in a few minutes. "So. Other than _not_ bleeding profusely, how are you this morning?"

Castle shrugged. "Still strange. I feel pathetic, honestly."

"Why?" Beckett asked. "I'm sure I'd be just as tired if I'd just gotten out of surgery."

"No, I don't mean embarrassed, I mean I feel like I couldn't do a damn thing if I tried. I feel sort of... deflated," he said, trying to stand up straighter, then wincing and holding onto the counter. "Not very well."

"Yeah, well, it'll take you a while to recover," said Beckett. "Just be patient. I know that's hard for you, but that's all you can really do."

Castle nodded. "I'm going to sit down," he said, shuffling into the living room.

Beckett searched the cabinets for a cup for her coffee. "Are you hungry, Castle?" she asked. She almost, _almost_ felt bad for being mad at him when he was so miserable.

"I think so," said Castle. "Do we even have anything I'm allowed to eat?"

"Lots of ice cream, unless you're tired of it already."

Castle made an indistinct noise.

"Okay, not ice cream," said Beckett, looking though his food. "I can make you some toast."

"Sure."

As Beckett waited on the toaster and looked for a butter knife, she continued to debate what she should do about work. As much as she wanted to get back to the case, she felt increasingly guilty about leaving Castle alone. True, he had pranked her in the meanest way, but it didn't seem outside the realm of possibility that such a thing _would_ actually happen to him, and she shuddered to think of him being alone if it did.

"When do Martha and Alexis get back again?" she asked when she brought him his toast.

"Day after tomorrow," said Castle. "No, wait... day _after_ day after tomorrow." He nibbled on the toast and nodded his thanks.

"Hmm," said Beckett, still torn.

"Hey Beckett?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you get me a glass of milk?"

She had been expecting him to ask something much more serious. "Sure," she said, getting up once more. She poured him a glass of milk, topped off her coffee, and returned to the couch. "Hey Castle. You have something resembling my whiteboard, right? Something you use for writing?"

"Yeah, in my office. Why?"

"Well... I was thinking, maybe I can sort of... work from home. Or, from your house, technically." Beckett almost never asked for time off, and she knew if she did ask for it, Montgomery would be happy to oblige, but she needed to feel like she was working. Perhaps more importantly, she needed to not let Castle think she was giving in completely.

"Hey, whatever you need, just ask," said Castle.

It was almost too easy. "Just a minute," said Beckett. "Let me call Montgomery."

She excused herself to make the call. She explained her proposal, and Montgomery offered more than once to let her take the time off altogether, but she refused. She knew she would need the distraction of work. That taken care of, she made one more important call.

"Where have you been, girl?" Lanie answered. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, he's okay," said Beckett. "He's just taking it easy for a while. But I have a... favor to ask you."

"Anything, sweetie."

"I need you bring me some clothes."

"Clothes? Excuse me?"

Beckett rapidly explained the situation, glossing quickly over the failed date and fast-forwarding to her work-from-Castle's loft plan.

"So you really don't want to leave him alone for an hour to pack a suitcase?" Lanie asked, sounding slightly confused.

"Not exactly," said Beckett. Begrudgingly, she explained the fiasco at the restaurant, and how she had stranded herself at Castle's loft with nothing but a cocktail dress.

"You'd better be glad he's in such bad shape, or I'd say that's a lousy cover story," said Lanie.

Beckett grumbled in disgust. "I wish it _was_ a cover story."

"And what is _that _supposed to mean?" Lanie asked. "Girl, you and writer boy need to hurry up and—"

"Stop," said Beckett. "So can you bring me some decent clothes or not?"

"Of course I can," said Lanie. "You think I'd miss seeing you in a slept-on cocktail dress in writer boy's bat cave?"

"I hate to disappoint you, but I'm not wearing the dress."

"I thought you didn't have any other clothes..."

"I don't."

"Kate?"

"God, no, Lanie, I am _not naked!_" Beckett cried, suddenly flushing. "Actually, though, I'm wearing something almost as embarrassing," she said, looking down at the too-short pajamas.

"Oh?"

"You're just going to have to find out."


	5. You and Your Logic

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: Again, I am SO sorry for the loooong delay. Grad school has been kicking my butt from here to the next continent. And I've been kicking back by taking gymnastics, which just doesn't leave a heck of a lot of writing time. Anyway, this was a tough chapter to write for some reason – it just wouldn't flow – so any critiques from improvement are DEFINITELY welcome. I hope you enjoy it at least a little! Christmas holidays start next week, so I should have the next chapter much sooner than last time. **

Lanie stifled her laughter when Beckett opened the door.

"I see why you needed the clothes!" she said, handing Beckett a canvas tote bag with neatly rolled blouses and slacks, as well as one of her favorite jackets.

"Thank you," said Beckett, taking the bag. "And sorry for kind of freaking out on the phone the other night. I was just—"

"Worried about your friend?" Lanie finished. "Don't apologize! I'd be more worried if you _weren't_ freakin' out!"

"Is that Dr. Parish I hear?" Castle called from the living room. "So good of you to come bearing well wishes!"

"I'm here for my girl who needs a wardrobe change!" said Lanie. "You wanna explain how that came to be?"

"Twas a dark and stormy night, and Detective Beckett was stranded in the bat cave, wearing only her glittering evening gown..." Castle began.

Lanie shook her head. "Glad the surgery hasn't affected your exaggeration skills a bit."

Castle narrowed his eyes at her.

"Well, speaking of dates," said Lanie, giving Beckett a meaningful look, "I've got one with a dead body. You two behave yourselves!" She winked again at Beckett, and made her exit.

Without waiting to comment, Beckett took the bag of clothes to the spare room and changed into her own pants and blouse and brushed through her hair. Feeling much more herself again, she folded Alexis's pajamas and stacked them neatly on the dresser, and went back out to get a refill on her coffee. Castle was lying down again, rather stiffly, and he had set his phone on the table, an unfinished level of Angry Birds flashing at the ceiling. He didn't look so good.

"Hey," said Beckett, setting her empty cup down and forgetting all about coffee. "You okay?"

"I think so," he said, but it was a hesitant answer that Beckett wasn't buying.

Normally, she wouldn't have pushed it, but she doubted Castle had much experience with severe medical trauma. "You sure?" she asked, sitting on the edge of the couch where he was lying.

"You know, Detective, I have no idea," said Castle. "What do you think?"

Beckett smiled, resisting the urge to reach out and touch his hair. "I think I should have asked Lanie to stick around for a few minutes," she said. "She'd know better than I would."

Castle started to laugh, then stopped when it caused him pain. "I can't believe you're admitting someone is better than you at something," he said.

"I'm not—" she started. "Okay, yeah."

"But you're better than her at solving murders," Castle reminded her.

"Of course I am. It's my _job_."

"And chopping up dead people is _her_ job."

Beckett made a face, not particularly amused at the image given her anxiety about Castle's condition.

"And," Castle added, reading her expression, "dreaming up the most gruesome image for quotidian details is _my_ job."

"You certainly have a talent for it," said Beckett, gazing at him with a smile. Their eyes met for just a second too long, and Beckett felt her heart rate pick up. She forced herself to look away, and she went back to the kitchen to get her forgotten coffee cup. She wrapped her fingers around the ceramic, savoring the warmth and wondering why her hands were shaking.

"Hey Beckett?" Castle asked. "Do you mind bringing that smart board out here? I..."

"What?" Beckett asked, waiting for him to continue.

"Well, Detective, if you really must know, I am scared. There, I said it. This is a lot easier to write about than to experience," Castle admitted.

"Yeah," said Beckett, suddenly flashing back to the night of her mother's murder. That cut scene had a way popping into her mind at the most inopportune times. "Okay, Castle. I'll bring it in."

Before he could look right through her again, she hurried to his study to get the board. It was an awkward thing to move, especially because she had to bend down and pick up the wheels every time she encountered one of his many plush rugs. Once she had it set up, she spent a while figuring out how to work it – with several pointers from Castle – and then mapped out all the pertinent information.

She spent the next couple hours going back and forth between the board and her phone, communicating ideas with Ryan and Esposito, despite their hints that she should take the day off. She had to admit they had a point. Even though Castle had let her use his laptop, there was only so much she could do without access to all the police databases she needed. Around lunchtime, Beckett realized she had done as much as she could do, and she begrudgingly turned the case over to Ryan and Esposito. She hung up the phone and turned around to ask Castle if he was hungry, but he was gone.

"Castle?" Beckett looked around the loft, wondering how he could have possibly disappeared without her noticing. When she couldn't find him, she decided she'd better check upstairs. "Castle?" she repeated, starting to worry.

"Right here." He was sitting on the floor with his back the wall and his knees pulled up, looking paler than she remembered ever seeing him.

"You okay?" Beckett asked, kneeling down next to him and putting her hand on his shoulder.

"Define 'okay,'" said Castle.

"Well... do I need to take you back to the hospital?"

"Honestly, I don't know."

"Did you pass out?" Beckett asked him.

"No. Just sat down."

"What did you come up here for, anyway?" Beckett asked.

"I was looking for the extra remote to that smart board so I could help you with the case," said Castle.

Beckett smiled. "You don't have to do that. Especially right now."

"I could use the distraction," he countered.

Beckett could understand that. "Well, I'm not working on the case anymore anyway. Ryan and Esposito talked me into letting them take over."

"That's a first."

"So is this."

"This?"

Beckett froze. She wasn't sure herself what she had meant. "Uhm..." she tried to backpedal, but couldn't find her way out of the question. "Well, you, on the floor, me, watching you sit there. You gonna be okay, or what?"

"Think so," said Castle, though he made no move to get up.

"Come on," said Beckett. "I'm sure the couch is much more comfortable than the hardwood."

"You and your logic," Castle teased.

"Undeniable," she said, offering him her hand. He took it, and slowly pulled himself to his feet. It was a slow walk down the stairs, and more than once Castle reached out suddenly to grip the railing. Once they were settled in the living room, there was a rather awkward pause as they both wondered what to do next.

"So," said Castle. "No case. Now what?"

"No idea," said Beckett.

Two hours later, they had solved an entire week of the NYT crossword puzzles, and were about to start on the Sudoku when Castle decided to take a break and use the restroom. Beckett skimmed through the world news section, but dropped the paper with gasp when Castle hit the floor.


	6. Like, WRITING writing?

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks again for all the comments! I do get a certain joy out of seeing all your outrage at the cliffhangers! Hehehe. Here's your next chappie, and at least one or two more are on their way. Well, at some point. School is back in session, so... yeah. But better slow than never, yeah?**

"Very funny, Castle," said Beckett, hoping her tone would be enough of a reprimand to get him to stop jerking her around. Like_ that_ would ever happen. "Castle?"

Still, he didn't answer.

"Come on, Castle, I'm not just gonna do all these puzzles by myself."

When he still didn't say anything, Beckett suddenly realized he wasn't playing. She jumped off the couch and knelt down next to him to see what happened. He had fallen forward and hit the side of his head on the coffee table, and a flower of blood was forming above his left ear. Beckett swore under her breath and ran to the kitchen to get ice, paper towels, and a glass of water. She set all this down on the coffee table and called an ambulance. She wasn't about to take her chances, and she was shaking enough that she didn't trust herself to drive. That in itself was alarming. Her job required that she be cool under pressure, and 999 times out of 1000 she was. So why not now?

She explained the emergency to the 911 operator and rattled off Castle's address, then slid her phone shut. He was just starting to stir.

"Kate?" he murmured, trying to sit up.

"Don't get up!" she said putting her hands on his shoulders to prevent him from moving, and then blotting the side of his head with the wad of paper towels. She wished she had grabbed more.

"What happened?" Castle asked.

"I'm not sure," said Beckett, trying to keep her voice steady. "You passed out. That much I'm sure of."

"Oh. Ungh, my head..."

"Yeah, you hit it on the table," said Beckett, unfolding and refolding the paper towels another way to try and find a dry part, then pressing the ice pack against his head over the towels. "I called you an ambulance. They'll be here in a minute."

"An ambulance?" said Castle, sounding alarmed as well as disoriented. He tried once more to sit up. This time Beckett helped him sit up slowly, and handed him the water.

"Drink," she said, hoping it would help.

Castle's hands were shaking, but he drank most of the water.

"How do you feel?" Beckett asked. "Are you okay?"

"I think so," said Castle, his brow furrowed. "What was I doing, anyway?"

"You were just going to use the restroom," said Beckett. "Didn't get that far. I hope you don't have a concussion." She tried to get a good look at his eyes. They seemed pretty well focused, which she assumed was a good sign. She kept the ice pressed to his head until she heard the sirens, and then the knock on the door.

The EMTs did their thing, and Beckett tried both to stay out of their way and to stay detached. She did a hell of a lot better at the first goal. Moments later, they were on their way back to the hospital, and Beckett was biting her lip until it bled as they hurdled through Manhattan. Castle threw up again in the ambulance, and Beckett prayed that didn't mean he had a concussion, or worse, that the surgery hadn't fixed the problem.

"Beckett? Are you crying?" Castle asked a few minutes later.

"What?" The question caught her by surprise, but as soon as registered, she realized she was. That was ridiculous. She wiped her eyes, frowning. "Err, yeah. I guess so."

"Why?"

Beckett cleared her throat. "I'm worried, Rick. That's all."

"About me?" Castle asked. "It just a bump on the head. I'll be good as new in no time."

"Hope so," said Beckett quietly. She couldn't quite bring herself to believe him. He looked so pale and clammy, and the twinkle in his eyes wasn't as bright as it usually was.

They went through all the motions at the hospital again, but this time Beckett was allowed to stay with him. Several hours and a CAT scan later, the doctors decided that Castle didn't have a concussion (although he was likely to have a nasty headache for the rest of the day) and he had probably passed out from low blood sugar and/or dehydration. They were sent home with instructions to take it easy and to be more consistent with eating small, frequent meals.

"I really am going to have to babysit you, aren't I?" said Beckett in the cab on the way home.

"Seems that way," said Castle sheepishly, reaching up for the umpteenth time to touch the bandages on his head. "From NYPD's finest detective to childcare provider in one fell swoop... how does that make you feel?"

"As long as I don't have to change your diapers, I think I'll live," said Beckett.

"Good," said Castle, still fiddling with the bandages. "Hey, do you think I'll get a scar from this?" he asked, sounding entirely too hopeful.

"You might," said Beckett, shaking her head.

Once they returned to Castle's apartment, they took the elevator, and picked up where they had left off with the puzzles in the newspaper. The spent most of the rest of the day on the couch, alternating between the Sudoku and cat naps, since Castle's head was still bothering him, and he was still fatigued from the surgery. Beckett used the time that Castle was sleeping to work, even though she had technically left the case. She needed _something _to do, and work felt productive, although she occasionally got stuck when there was some feature of his smart board that she couldn't figure out how to use. Once, when Castle was taking a particularly long nap and she had done as much work as she could with the information she had, she sat down and stared out the window, trying to decide what to do with herself. It wasn't often that Kate Beckett got bored. She flipped through her notebook, but there was no new information to add, no new persons of interest to interview. She twirled the pen in her hand, wishing she had something to write...

Writing. The answer was right in front of her. She had nothing to do, a pen and paper, and she was sitting in the very house where some of her favorite books had been written. Beckett smiled, shaking her head at herself. She felt a little silly. She'd never written anything more than the occasional diary entry in middle school, but in the present situation, she couldn't think of anything _else _to do. _Why not?_ she asked herself. Coming up with no good reason, she tentatively set her pen to paper.

. . .

"How long have I been out for?" Castle asked when he sat up several hours later, rubbing his eyes.

"Quite a while," said Beckett, scribbling the last sentence of the paragraph she had been working on. "How are you feeling?"

Castle shrugged. "Still tired, somehow."

"To be expected," said Beckett. "Two medical emergencies in twenty-four hours, you going for a record?"

"Funny," said Castle sarcastically. "I _am_ hoping for a sweet scar out of this though," he added, once again fingering the bandages on his head.

"I don't think I'd want to be reminded," said Beckett.

"Really?" said Castle, his eyes moving downward to Beckett's chest.

"Excuse me?" Beckett put her hands over her chest, feeling slightly violated, but then her hands landed on her mother's wedding ring, and she understood what he had meant. "Oh."

Castle nodded. "You get some more information on the case?" He motioned to the notebook.

"Oh. No, actually," said Beckett.

"No? What were you doing?"

Beckett found herself blushing. "Err... writing," she admitted.

"Writing? Like, _writing_ writing?"

"Yep."

"Can I read it?" The bright light was back in his eyes, and the inner little boy that Beckett knew so well was back.

"No!" said Beckett, holding tightly to the notebook.

"Why not?"

"Because you're a best-selling author and I've never written a story in my life!"

"So?"

"So you're gonna rip it to pieces! And besides, it's personal."

"Why else do you think I want to read it?" Castle asked.

Beckett rolled her eyes and changed the subject. "Are you hungry? It's been quite a while since you ate."

"Ehh."

Beckett force-fed him some Gatorade and applesauce, and sat on the chair opposite him, contemplating what to write next. It was addicting.

"You're really not gonna let me read what you wrote?" Castle asked when he had finished eating. "You've read dozens of my stories!"

"Yeah, but not first drafts!" said Beckett. "Forget it, Castle."

"Fine," he said. "Meanie."

"Two-year-old."

"Butthead."

Beckett cracked up, completely losing the staring contest they inadvertently started. "Butthead? Really, Castle?"

"Maturity is relative," he said evasively.

"Right..." said Beckett. "I'm going to go change into pajamas. It's getting late."

"Do you need a clean set?" Castle asked.

"No, Lanie brought me some of my own."

"Please tell me it's scandalous."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but it's yoga pants and a sweatshirt."

"Damn."

Beckett left to change, and came back a few minutes feeling warm and cozy. She felt almost tempted to just snuggle up with Castle and watch another movie, but she was _taken_ for heaven's sake. Ugh. A wave of insecurity about Josh hit her, followed quickly by a resurging of anger over the dinner disaster. She grinded her teeth together for a moment and shook her head, determined to put it out of her mind for the time being. There was nothing wrong with at least enjoying the company of her friend. Partner. Whatever they were.

"You got enough energy for a movie, Castle?" she asked walking back out to the living room.

To her surprise, Castle almost jumped as if startled, and frantically tried to stuff something out of sight.

He had been reading her notebook.


End file.
